When the phone rings, Chloé expects it to be her boss probably ringing in to remind her that as of tomorrow, she'd be expected back at her usual shift.

Not to say she isn’t grateful the guy is generous enough to give a full week paid off to a new employee, but many of her hours will be chalked up at some desk counter instead of exploring her abilities.

She'd wake up, still expecting it to be a dream but once the few whiskey shots or beers got flowing in her system, it all comes back. The feeling, the power— it's all she looks forward to.

Dismissing the voices tempting her to ignore the ringing, Chloé picks it up from her nightstand. What greets her is an unregistered string of digits.
Curious, she answers. ‘Hello?’

'Am I speaking with miss Godoy?’

Chloé immediately sits up, recognising that husky voice in a heartbeat. ‘O-Officer Troy?’

‘Hey, is this a bad time?’

'For you? No, never.’

Troy lets out a chuckle as if she just told a joke. With the awkwardness of it, Chloé quickly begins to wish that she did.

‘How did you get my number?’ she decides to ask.

'I got it from your mother, after the whole… y'know. How are you feeling by the way?’

'Good.’ Absentmindedly, Chloé curls a fingers around a lock of her hair. ‘So what can I do for you?’

‘Well, I was wondering if you were maybe free and wouldn’t mind meeting up some time later today?’

Chloé’s eyes widen, body going stiff.

'…Hello?’

She recoils at the sound of his voice, regaining the function to speak. ‘Y-Yes, I can make time. Not a problem.’

He sounds quite pleased by that or perhaps it’s her own wishful thinking but either way, the plans are set and he hangs up.

**

'Open your mouth.’

It’s the very first thing Selina says— no, in fact, orders Chloé to do once stepping into the woman’s humble abode.

Chloé wonders if she might’ve still been having one of her weird dreams again. Getting up at the crack of dawn is not something she’s familiar with. ‘What?’

'Open. Your. Mouth,' Selina repeats slowly with a stern edge.

Chloé isn’t going to admit it slightly intimidates her and after scowling, parts her lips. Instantly, some kind of stick is lunged against the base of her mouth and plucked out in one fell swoop, leaving Chloé no time to even react beyond a stifled cough at first.

She comes to register the cotton swab in Selina’s hand before it’s securely stashed in cellophane.

'You could’ve just said you wanted a DNA sample instead of assaulting my throat,' Chloé points out, rubbing her neck.

'After you got all skittish when I wanted to take blood?’

‘That’s because I don’t like needles.’ And the thought of the woman wielding a sharp object is absolutely terrifying, becoming invincible doesn’t change that.

'Right well, I also need a sample for comparison. Do you happen a to have any clothes dirty clothes with sweat or used tissues you used before that night?’

'Anything you find on my bedroom floor should do.’

Selina pulls a face. ‘Oh God, I seriously wish you were joking…' She mutters curses under her breath, dutifully trudging to the bedroom.

It only took a few hours for Selina to come to accept Chloé’s 'condition', as the woman prefers to call it. Which is unsurprising, considering she’d bore firsthand witness to seeing steel beams twice the size of Chloé hail down on her and come out without so much as a scratch.

Chloé walks into her room where the brunette is occupied in scavenging through the litter of clothes and undergarments. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to just go to a hospital to get examined?’

Selina offers her a side eyed glance. ‘Wow, that’s the first intelligent thing you've said— definitely sober then.’ That earns her a glare she takes with a prideful grin. ‘Anyway, if this condition of yours is only subjected to you being intoxicated, then that’s a stretch to say you've gained or even evolved to these 'superpowers'. What that means is your body is having a reaction to something that’s triggered by the alcohol consumption. So my guess is you've contracted a bug or mutated virus and if they don’t know where to look, you'll just be a pesky patient who keeps coming back and wasting their time.’

'Huh, guess so…'

‘Besides, I'd be way more competent than that lot. You should be glad you came to me.’

'Except I don’t actually remember coming to you. What I remember is you admitting that you followed me into that restaurant—’

‘You were wasted. It’s all blurry.’ She pauses to inspect a stained sheet of tissue. ‘I-Is this mold?! Bloody hell, Chloé, you've had the whole week off and couldn’t at least try to tidy up a bit?’

‘For your information, I've been busy using my powers to the best of their abilities.’

'Doing what? Fighting crime?’

Chloé beams.

‘Oh, you've got to be kidding.’

‘Well, wouldn’t you? And thanks to me, that kid didn’t end up hospitalised on his birthday.’

'And besides that?’

Chloé thinks for a moment. ‘Well, there was this guy who I rescued from a road accident. His car went off at a slope by the highway and was upside down. Except um, the paramedics had to come pulls us out of the water when I accidentally threw us into the lake…'

‘You what?’

‘Margaritas make me thirsty, alright?’

Selina manages to look more disgusted than she already is since barging in. ‘Just how much have you been drinking lately?’

'Only enough to get me going so like, a few bottles here and there. The hangovers don’t even feel that bad anymore, maybe this super bug I've got has enhanced my liver and tolerance maybe?’

That earns a scoff. ‘Yeah, I'm sure that you'd like to think that.’

‘Now that you mention it, I should probably start stocking up.’

‘Hang on, you’re actually going to keep doing this?’

'Yeah, why would I stop?’

'Because this isn’t a comic book, Chloé. I might not know what exactly the hell you are but that doesn’t exempt you from who you should be and that’s a functional member of society. You expect to keep up having a full-time job and then moonlighting as some drunken vigilante?’

‘I thought I could just keep it for the weekends.’

Selina pinches the bridge of her nose. The woman’s notably been making a lot of these gestures since learning about Chloé’s gig. ‘Y’know what? I've got way too much work to do to even lecture you on everything that’s wrong there and let that just blow up in your face.’

She resumes her scavenging and it’s far from an agreement but certainly good enough for Chloé to disregard.

**

Chloé doesn’t think of herself as gullible enough to believe in far-fetched things like soulmates but she does begin reconsidering it after seeing Troy had picked their meet up point to be at her all-time favourite coffee shop.

The place is unsurprisingly crowded. Chloé prepares to send a text in case he hasn’t arrived yet before starting a search, when a tanned arms shoots into the air.

Her gaze zeroes in on a table up ahead where a man is flagging her down. Chloé sees the uniform really hasn’t been doing the man justice, ironically. In just a plain black tee under a denim coat, he looks twice as good as the first time she laid eyes on him.

Right as she’s about to smile, returning the wave, she notices something. Troy isn’t alone.
She reels from the confusion quick enough to weave through the packed space and occupy a vacant seat at the table. Directly opposite from her is a tall man in a dark coat, his eyes masked by the steam that’s fogged his thick lenses as he sips his latte.

Chloé almost wants to pretend she doesn’t notice him and cling onto the fantasy than face the cruel truth she'd dumbly gotten her hopes up. It’s shattered in only three seconds when Troy starts introducing the man.

‘Chloé, I'd like you to meet Davila. Davila, this is Chloé Godoy.’ Chloé puts on her most polite smile, offering a hand to shake. He does so and she catches his gaze slip below to her chest.

Chloé firmly crosses her arms, making it clear that the show of her ladies is not a freeview screening. The perv, realising he's been caught, darts to inspect his black coffee and coughs into his hand. Of course it has to be the shifty cretin to ogle her rather than Troy. Then again, expecting him to even spare a glance after seeing Selena’s perfectly proportioned ones is beyond wishful thinking.

‘Davila here is a private eye. His most recent client is a relative of one of Scott Bates' victims.’ It takes a second for the name to click to Chloé. The mugger. ‘They came out unharmed, thankfully and as much as they loved this city, they had felt too unnerved to come for another visit. After hearing about how you bravely put him to rest, they reached out to Davila to personally thank you and offer to treat you to lunch once they’re around again.’

Chloé bobs her head. ‘Well, feel free to pass on the message that they’re very welcome. Cheers.’ With nothing further, she whips her head to much more appreciated company to her left side. ‘So officer Troy, I've been meaning to ask you if there’s a particular diet you’re on to maintain that figure of yours or is it just from gym sessions? I've been planning to start a health kick, you see.’

Before Troy can form an answer, the unwanted third party decides to open his mouth. ‘Actually, miss Godoy, there are one or two other things I wanted to discuss.’

‘Oh, by all means,' Troy elects to say on Chloé’s behalf. ‘I’ve got some other matters to attend to so, I best be on my way. Nice seeing you again, Chloé.’

He graces her with a fleeting smile, pays for his drink and she’s left to wistfully watch his retreating back and fine rear end before it disappears out the front doors.

At the blunt clearing of a throat, Chloé wills her eyes to meet those dark ones framed behind square glasses.

Without any distractions, she notices the man has got a clean cut despite his drab choice of clothes and his skin is ivory white, like he hasn’t been out in natural sunlight for years. He laces his long, slender fingers in them, the red tinge of roughness around his knuckles stands out more with the pale complexion.

‘So… how long have you known officer Troy?’

Chloé lifts a brow. She hasn’t been sure what the bloke was going to ask but that certainly had exceeded all expectations. ‘A few weeks ago. We met through the mugging cases.’

‘And you've had no other relations with law enforcement prior?’

What kind of questions are these?
‘Um… no.’

Davila raises his thick brows. ‘Mm, interesting.’

‘Interesting?’

'Well, if you look at the fact you crossed paths with a man who wasn’t afraid to open fire on a defenseless civilian such as yourself and then to be so unfortunate to encounter him again— baffling. Then adding onto that, you not only managed to evade serious injury once more but the officers that arrived to the scene had reported Scott Bates was incapacitated. To undertake that with no background in defensive training of any kind, is quite a peculiar situation, wouldn’t you agree?’

Chloé shifts in her seat. ‘The bloke was drunk.’

‘As were you.’

'I got a lucky shot. Adrenaline rush or whatever they call it.’

'For seven blows to the abdomen and a sprained wrist?’

Chloé narrows her eyes. ‘I thought Troy said you were a private investigator.’

He adjusts his glasses in a somewhat proud manner. 'I am.’

‘Then why does this sound like an interrogation?’

Davila raises his hands. ‘I’m purely asking out of intrigue. If it’s just as you claim, then there’s no need to feel provoked.’

‘I’m not. And the police— the professionals, might I add, already concluded that’s what happened.’

'The police are only as thorough as they choose to be. A felon like Scott Bates was a prime threat to their revenue if his mugging sprees spread to tourist tractions. They needed it settled as quickly as possible. It’s a given in every profession that when there’s a rush, the work get sloppy.’

‘It can’t be that sloppy since they caught the guy.’

'Except they didn’t. Scott Bates arrest only became possible thanks to you, Chloé.’ The intensity in his dark eyes makes her stiffen. ‘You can pretend all you want but I know you’re hiding something. And it’s obvious the police only haven’t sniffed it out because they don’t care. Just like how you threw yourself at Troy earlier and he didn’t bat an eye. Clearly, with a promotion on the horizon, he sets his eyes on...' His gaze dips to her chest once more. 'Bigger prizes.'

Chloé can only double take at the far too unsubtle reference.

'Did you even receive any recognition for what you did? A medal? Hell, even a letter?’

‘I didn’t want anything.’

‘And why’s that? Afraid to catch people’s attention, maybe?’

Chloé’s fist clench and she rises to her feet. ‘Okay, this conversation is over.’

‘But I'm not done talking.’

‘Well I know my rights and I do believe that if you have no legal authority to keep me here and question me, then I am at liberty to choose to leave. Or shall I call up officer Troy to confirm that?'

When the shrewd man only stares, Chloé dutifully stalks off. Though not before leaning forth to haughtily add, 'And I'm a size C, which might be average but there have certainly been a gift to all who've received them.’

He blinks repeatedly. She keeps her gait proud until she’s out the door and turns at the first corner, hurriedly pulling out her phone.

To: Selina

Emergency. BIG EMERGENCY!